The Shadow in the Night
by Tyrammafar
Summary: Holmes thought his career was over, but when a new terror strikes London he must take up the task of tracking down this new murderer called the Shadow. But, this is no man he is hunting...it is a being from another world than his own. And it is hungry...
1. Ages Past Come Again

**My first attempt at Sherlock Holmes.**

**I am not a diehard fan of Holmes, though I always loved the tales, though long and far too dialogue-based for me. This is an undertaking which may go on to be a very long and peculiar tale. **

**Keep in mind; I am not an expert on Holmes.**

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**Sherlock Holmes**

**The Shadow in the Night**

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**Chapter 1**

**Ages Past, Come Again**

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_October 20, 1937_

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Holmes stared into the flickering light of the dying fire, thoughts far away. He had long ago retired, long ago put away his coat to gather dust and be eaten by moths, and so long ago since he had been out in the world to see the sights of man's creation. The years weighed heavily on him, but it did not cripple him. No, Mr. Holmes was strong and valiant, and age alone would not bow his shoulders. His hair was grey all through, and was not combed this morning and remained so still.

He examined a small scratch on the face of his violin, chewing the inside of his cheek as he remembered how it had gotten there. It had been a bleak October just as this one, and he had made some frightening enemies a month before. They had come looking for him, and had found him. He himself had barely escaped with his life…but his old friend Watson was wounded by a masked assassin. The portly man passed on the following day, and Holmes had mourned his death for a full two years. He had been a steadfast companion and excellent source of information. But now it was all gone, all long past.

All so, so long ago…

A firm knock came to his ears; someone was beating on the door. It was late at night, and rainy, and Holmes knew from experience that such things that come to his door in the night are seldom good ones. Never-the-less, he walked towards the stairs and down to the door, which he opened to see a soaked man.

The man was bald, not a hint of hair on his thin face nor scalp, and he wore a thin jacket. "Sir…Mr. Holmes, sir, please, allow me to enter." Holmes stepped aside and the man entered, his eyes wide with fear. "Sir, I need your help, badly…"

"What is it?"

"A good friend of mine…we were looking around in the mine shafts far north of London; our business was our own." He began in between gasps. "We found something…I can't remember what it was, I didn't get a good look. My friend, Sir Richards, was silent for many hours after entering a dark passage, and when he returned he was bruised on the neck and face. I asked him what was wrong, but he did not answer me. We returned here to London…and…and…" The man suddenly broke down into tears. "He was standing there beside me, and he fell to the ground, as if with a seizure! I ran for help, but when I returned…he was dead!"

"How so?" Holmes asked calmly.

"His…his body was bloody and torn badly, as if a wild animal had eaten him alive." The man gasped. "There are men outside that want to take you to see the body…they want to know what happened, and they wanted me to come to see you."

"I see…" Holmes turned to look out the door into the rain, where a single man stood amidst a group of what looked like bodyguards. The man was dressed in fine clothes that were drenched with rain, but he did not seem to mind.

"Mr. Holmes!" He called. "If you would kindly come with me?"

Holmes chewed the inside of his cheek and answered. "…I will."

It seemed it was all coming back to him now…he had tried hiding from it and it found him anyway. It always seemed to find him in the end…

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The rain was not as heavy as it had been, and soon it stopped altogether. Holmes was led threw twisting alleys into the deepest parts of London, and when he saw the body of Sir Richards even he gasped in shock.

The man lay spread-eagled on his back, eyes wide to the cloudy sky and rain, his face locked in a grimace of agony. His chest was plainly torn apart, blood oozing from numerous wounds all across his body as if raked with claws and bitten by long teeth. All his internal organs were gone, and his right leg was now no more than a bloody stump oozing crimson blood onto the wet ground. The pool of blood had been mostly washed away by now, but the air was quite heavy with the smell of death.

"As you can see, Mr. Holmes…" The man next to the body said, scratching his chest. "…he was torn apart by something, but there are no animals around here with this kind of ferocity. This is London, after all."

"Pardon me for saying, Mr.…"

"Yutani." Holmes raised an eyebrow; it was a very strange name that sounded foreign. "My name is Edward Yutani."

"Mr. Yutani." Holmes stopped near the bloody ruin that had once been a man, pointing to the claws on the remaining leg. "Do you know any creature that could cut into flesh that cleanly, or that deep? It seems as though cut by knives designed to look like an animal. Same as with the bite marks…too deep, too clean."

"Are you suggesting that he was murdered?" Yutani asked.

"I am not suggesting, my good man…I am certain." Holmes pointed at the man. "This man was murdered."

"Could you help us find the killer, then?"

"But…" Holmes said. "One thing in particular intrigues me." He pointed to the broken ribs of the dead man, where the organs had been harvested. "No sane man would do this…and these bones, see how they are broken?"

"I do not."

"They are broken as _so_. They are not broken inward but _outward_." Holmes stood. "Something ate him alive from the inside, and then came _out _of his chest. This is something more than just a murder…this is some kind of unholy slaughter I have not seen or heard the likes of before."

"Can you help us?"

"I will, Mr. Yutani, I will help you." Holmes looked down at the body, grimacing. For the first time in many years, Holmes felt sick at the sigh of death.

And death so brutal, as it were. A man, torn open from the inside like the bone was no more than rotten wood, and then ripped to pieces. Whatever man had done this was sick and twisted beyond hope of redemption…and Holmes was determined to stop him.


	2. The Shadow in the Night

**Cancel the previous AN, this story will be short, with very short chapters. I don't want this turning into a massive story like all my others, so it will be a short.**

**Due to the fact that I have far too much work to do, this story will be a short one in order to get this out into the world. My novels-length fictions breach 3000 words per chapter in many cases, but this is my first short-story. Thanks to the two who reviewed!**

**Big timelapse here…**

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**Chapter 2**

**The Shadow in the Night**

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_October 24, 1937_

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Four entire days had passed with no sign of any madman on the loose, and not a single clue as to what had transpired in that dark alley other than a body, and half a body at that. Holmes sat in a wicker chair looking out the window at the faint drizzle that tapped a steady rhythm on the glass. It had been a long day searching through the alleyways for any sign of the murderer, but there was nothing other than what appeared to be a very misshapen snake skin. Nothing more.

There was a faint knock at his door and Holmes stood, slowly moving down the stairs and towards the door, opening it to see Mr. Yutani on the step. The young man was a little distraught and fidgeted nervously.

"Mr. Holmes, I must get to the point." He said, not trying to enter. "Something happened a scant two hours ago to an assistant of mine who was searching the area around the murder for signs of where the killer had gone. We found his body a little while ago as the sun set." The rain began to fall harder. "Or, rather, most of his body. All that was left were his legs, the rest was gone. I have a team of three to take you down to the site to find out what you can."

"This man is beginning to become more than a killer."

"Pardon?"

"He is more than a killer now." Holmes said as he stepped outside and closed the door. "He is now a terror in the night. If word gets around the city that a man is killing so brutally, the public will be very uncomfortable."

"That is why we need you."

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The night closed in quickly, as did the storm. It was raining very heavily, and Holmes was now soaked. But he would not let rain stop him from bringing this madman to justice. He would go through the mightiest of storms to pursue this villain, and to the ends of the earth to bring him down. There were three men by him, leading him down the twisting alleyways that were so dark only a single lantern allowed anything to be seen. Lightning helped some, but it was not enough.

The group soon came upon a spot where bloody water pooled. The others looked around at each other in confusion. "I swear, the body was here a little while ago." The man with the lantern said. "Charles, go see if there's a dog that dragged it off." Another man nodded, taking off into the rain. "Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"I do believe we may have a much more serious problem than we thought." The man with the lantern said. "This is not the first time men have been killed like this."

"It isn't?" Holmes was actually surprised; the thought that this had happened before had not crossed his tangled mind.

"It is actually the-" A loud scream tore into the night and all turned towards where Charles had run. He came out of the rain and into the lantern-light, then tripped and sprawled to the ground. There was a growl as something grabbed him by his hidden legs, and he was dragged out of sight. "Damn!"

"Charles!" The other man yelled. "Charles!"

"Charles!" There was a gurgle behind Holmes and he turned to see the man with the lantern being grabbed by something to fast to see, lifted into the air and out of sight. There was a chilling scream, and then a bit of blood rained down onto Holmes face. It was only now that he felt afraid. The lantern fell from the sky and shattered on the ground, going out before it exploded. Now all was dark, and Holmes felt the other man grab his shoulder.

"What are we going to do?!" He yelled. "We have to get out of here!"

"Come, this way." Holmes said, and tried to pull away, but the hand tightened on his shoulder. He turned to see the dim face of the man…with a black blade extending from his forehead, thrust forward from the back of the skull. The man dropped as the knife was removed, and a dark shape came into a hazy focus. It was a little larger than him, and very dark.

Lightning flashed then, and for a startling second he could clearly see what it was that had taken them so swiftly. It was black as the blackest night. No, blacker; as black as death itself, skeletal and hard. It was shiny and tough, like an insect. Its head was domed and oblong, and it had a tail that whipped forward to show a blade on the end, the one who had killed the man. It was like a walking skeleton, and most certainly not human.

It drew forward in the darkness as the light flickered out of existence, and Holmes could see it had no eyes. Yet, it still saw him, and its black lips parted to show silver-gray teeth that were like razors. They too parted and Holmes found himself gazing into its maw, slime dripping onto him as it hung above him, seemingly suspended in the air. Inside its mouth another set of jaws snapped forward, teeth clicking an inch from his nose. It let out an unholy shriek like that of some infernal demon calling to the souls of the damned. It was death in tangible form.

For the first time in many, many years, Holmes knew fear. He saw death before him, ready to lash out and steal his breath away from him, and he knew it would do just that. This was no human, it could not be reasoned with; it was a cold-hearted killer, and would do away with him as easily as a man would kill a small worm. The inner jaws snapped back and the creature hissed, grabbing the dead man on the ground with its long, skeleton-like hands. It rose out of sight into the darkness of the alley, and when the lightning flashed again there was no sign of it.

Holmes ran through the twisting alleyways, not daring to look back to see if he was being followed. He knew he was.


End file.
